


The Pearl Empire and the Ruby Tyrants

by Sarcastic_Metaphor



Series: Shades of Magic AUs [1]
Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Alternature Universe, Evil!Rhy, Holland Has A Heart, Kell Is Sad And Is This Story's Equivalent Of Book!Holland, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Not Evil!Astrid and Athos, Red And White London swap characteristics, pre- ADSOM, this is just me experimenting with characters and settings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 06:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13698990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcastic_Metaphor/pseuds/Sarcastic_Metaphor
Summary: The natures of White and Red London are reversed, so surely those of the people will change as well.





	The Pearl Empire and the Ruby Tyrants

**Author's Note:**

> This is set roughly a few years before the events of the first book would take place, so Kell is a teenager/borderline adult here.
> 
> I also thought this was going to be a lot shorter and focus way more on the environment than a plot since that was my original goal, but ~whoops~ it looks like I accidentally made it a full story with Holland-Who-Is-Actually-A-Decent-Person and Kell-Who-Desperately-Needs-A-Hug. I did try to keep the core of the characters and some of the original lore intact, but if things seem OOC that’s because this is literally an AU where everyone is supposed to behave differently. Comments appreciated! 
> 
> (I also wrote this in literally two days and don't have my usual Beta Reader w/ me, so please forgive any mistakes.)

Holland has seen the worlds beyond his own, has slipped through the fabric of reality like wind through wool. He knows _of_ the dead world, the one blackened by dark magic. He’s been to the grey London where magic is almost extinct and the closest thing to it are the charlatans performing tricks in the streets. That land was dreary and smelled of rain and smoke.  

He more frequently traveled to the red world. In the red version of London, powerful families would stop at nothing to secure their legacy and ensure that their offspring was the one to inherit the throne. The Royal family will rule for as long as they can, sometimes for months and sometimes for generations, slitting the throats of those who opposed them and slaughtering the competition. Their people were no better, desperate to keep their power intact, to have their progeny inherit more than their parents once did so that one day they may rule. Magic was a thing that the people were desperate to control, so they hoarded it as if it were more precious than rubies. Even the river ran tinged with red, the magic reflecting the nature of that world. The air in Red London reeked of power and something metallic.

The only positive thing (in Holland’s opinion) about Red London was Kell, the young _Antari_ that was about half of Holland’s age.

Kell was thin and lanky with skin so fare he could have almost blended in with the people of White London. He was a smart, reserved boy who was stubborn and insistent on doing things on his own. He was on the verge of becoming an adult, so these were not necessarily poor qualities, but Holland saw right through them.

Despite the brutal world he called home, there was something in him that Holland suspected that others didn’t see. The way Kell hid his black eye beneath his bright red bangs. The unabashed awe etched into his face upon viewing White London for the first time. How easily he became enamoured by a Grey London music box, one that played music with gears and machinery rather than magic. How quickly he came to trust Holland just because they were one in the same. This was a child that grew up in a world of cutthroats, but still a child nonetheless. A self-conscious, curious, headstrong child.

After getting used to traveling between London's, Holland noticed Kell’s affinity for color.

“I call yours White London, mine is Red London, the magicless world is Grey London, and…” He had paused, “the other one is Black London.”

Holland chuckled and glanced down. They were crossing one of the bridges over the Isle at the time. The river glowed red under the moon, and Holland thought that a naming system so simple was alarmingly effective.

After knowing each other for some time now, Holland sometimes wondered what Kell thought of his world.

Red was nothing like White London, which was as pale and pure as freshly-fallen snow. Holland’s London was a prosperous empire, affluent in both material wealth and magic. Here, there was no biological lineage to rule the land. Here, the strongest, most capable, most intelligent, and most loved reigned. Here, it was believed that nothing was meant to last forever, least of all dynasties. Here, the people and land all shined white, pristine, with hair and clothes decorated with pearls. Buildings gleamed with marble and silver. The Sijlt was the diamond of Holland’s London, and the scent of fresh air and lilies permeated the land.

After the previous king passed away, being an _Antari,_ Holland tried to seize the vacant throne. But then two contenders with a combined strength unlike anyone else rose above the throngs of people. Astrid and Athos Dane wowed the public with shows of strength and dazzling pearly smiles.

And that’s how Holland came to serve under them, his new king and queen. At least his status hadn’t diminished with the Danes’ rule. He was still an ambassador, still a high-ranking advisor and guard. Still highly respected.

His first priority was making sure the kingdom didn’t collapse or stutter as the throne(s) changed. After two months, and coincidentally on the eve of the twins’ thirtieth birthday, they received their first visit from Kell. Holland would have traveled to Red London to deliver the news of the new White monarchs earlier, but transitioning from ruler to ruler took time.

Holland was in the throne room, conversing with Athos when the guards announced a visitor.

Kell emerged moments later and looked quite surprised to see Astrid and Athos instead of the old king. He stopped short of the two thrones and bowed courteously.

“And to who do we owe the pleasure of visiting us today?” Astrid asked, leaning forward in her throne until her elbows rested comfortably on her thighs. She eyed Kell’s bright red jacket and orange hair curiously.

“I,” Kell began, picking at the hem of his sleeve, “...am the _Antari_ from the neighboring London, your Majesty.”

The way he said _majesty_ sounded more like a question than a statement.

Athos sat up in his throne.

“You must be Kell, then. Interesting, Holland has spoke of you. I was under the impression that you would be younger.”

Holland watched as Kell’s cheeks flushed with a slight pink shade. Still such a child.

“I am almost an adult.” Kell said. He switched topics quickly, “May I ask who now rules this London?”

_who now rules..._

Kell was still under the habit of thinking that monarchs change as easily as in his world.

“I am King Athos Dane, and this-” he gestured to his companion, “is my sister, Queen Astrid Dane.”

Astrid hardly paid attention to her brother’s words. Instead, she kept her focus on Kell.

“What brings you here to our London?”

Kell’s hand reached up to his jacket pocket before he hesitated.

“I have a letter from my London, although it is addressed to the prior King.”

Astrid gasped softly and held out her hand immediately. “A gift from another London; I will take it.”

Kell’s eye visibly widened, and he cautiously handed the envelope to the new queen. She held it to her face and inhaled through her nose.

“It really does smell different.”

Kell didn’t comment as she ripped open the letter and began reading.

Athos briefly peered over her shoulder, his eyes flickering toward the bottom of the paper.

He spoke then, smiling lightly. “I’ll be happy to write a letter to your queen to introduce ourselves.”

Kell tore his eyes away from Astrid, flickered briefly toward Holland, before landing on Athos.

“She would certainly appreciate it.”

The letter Kell was sent to deliver was an update about the ongoings of Red London, signed in the looping handwriting of Queen Persita. A request for information regarding agricultural spells was attached.

“Is your world is going through drought?”

Kell shook his head at the White Queen. While the king was busy writing their introductory letter, he responded briskly.

“Not yet, although there are signs of one approaching in the next season. My queen fears… _upsetting_ the populace if the crops fail this year.”

What Kell chose not to say was that during the last drought, the king at that time lost his head to an angry mob.

Athos asked if Astrid wanted to add anything to the letter and in the lapse of conversation, Holland seized his chance. He approached Kell and nudged him gently.

“Care to walk with me?”

The younger nodded.

They took the path that lead to the gardens, where Kell stopped to admire a rose bush. In his London, the flowers were always red. Here, they came in yellows and pinks and shades of white. Without really thinking, Holland took the knife strapped to his side and gingerly cut one of the white roses from the plant.

He held it out to Kell.

“Take it.”

Kell’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if to convey alarm, but Holland could see the confusion etched into his brow.

“For my Queen?”

Holland shook his head. “For you.”

So much of Kell’s world was bathed in red. Any other color was a rarity.

Kell’s fingers twitched at his side. He smirked, as if trying to act playful. “Smuggling is illegal.”

“Flowers wither away soon enough. Hardly suitable material for a token or spell if stolen,” Holland challenged lightly, “Besides, it's not as if I don’t already know of your penchant for trinkets.”

Holland saw the hushed exchange of coins for that music box in Grey. He knew that one would be hard-pressed to find luxury in Kell’s world. He’d also be lying if he said he never smuggled a prize of his own when he was younger.

The two stared at each other and not even the wind seemed to want to interrupt them.

At last, Kell slowly reached took the rose. He tucked it somewhere in the inside of his jacket, where maybe some magic pocket would keep it from getting smothered.

By the time the two of them wandered back into the castle, the Danes had finished their letter and dinner was about to begin.

Astrid asked, “Wouldn’t you like to stay?”

She was almost as old as Holland but sounded like a child, keen and earnest.

And that was the thing about the Danes, something that Kell would soon learn. They could so easily be snakes, already so very powerful and so very capable of doing terrible things. And yet on the inside they were like mice. Gentle and diligent.

Kell shook his head, letter already in his pocket.

“I really must be going.”

He bowed sharply. “But I thank you, King and Queen Dane, for your hospitality.”

And like that, he was gone. Back to his world of red.

Normal business resumed and Kell returned a week later to deliver greetings from his Queen congratulating the Danes on ascending to the throne. Athos and Astrid again implored him to stay for the night, or for some sightseeing, or even for a meal. Kell declined again, as Holland knew he would have to.

“My Queen does not like to be kept waiting.”

He left again more, briskly saying his goodbyes. One more time he visited, another short excursion in which he politely declined any of the royalty’s offers. After he left from that third visit, Holland and the two rulers were left alone in the throne room.

He watched Astrid stretch her arms above her head in a slow, almost-lazy motion.

“What do you think of the boy, sister?”

Astrid shrugged and leaned playfully on her brother’s shoulder.

“I like him. His hair is pretty but he’s awfully shy, isn’t he?”

Holland cut in, “He’s always been like that. It’s due to the nature of his world.”

Athos hummed in thought.

“How often should we keep up correspondence with the other Londons?”

“With the magicless world, hardly ever. Kell deals with them far more than we ever have.”

Athos tipped his head toward Holland. “And Kell’s world?”

“It depends. Kell’s monarchs change more frequently, so regular letters are hard to maintain. I’d recommend whenever you need or want, really.”

After that, Holland was so busy with his new king and queen that he hardly had time to travel elsewhere. More than a month passed, and Kell hadn’t returned either. Holland assured the Danes that this was normal. He and Kell both liked to keep busy, and communications tended to wane every once in a while.

Spring ended and summer passed.

This was now almost half a year and even Holland began to grow nervous. He knew he was overdue for a visit to the other worlds himself, but he chose his domestic duties over the others. He reasoned that if Red London ever needed White’s aid, they’d send Kell.

At last, an opportunity finally presented itself when autumn was just beginning. Astrid had finished penning a lengthy, cordial letter regarding the health of their London, wishing the red queen a long reign and apologizing for the absence of correspondence. She sealed the letter with glistening silver wax and handed it to Holland.

“And tell Kell that we’d love for him to visit soon.”

Holland nodded, very used to his queen’s behavior by now, and set off.

When he returned to Red London for the first time in months, he nearly gagged on the scent. The tang of metal and ashen magic was almost palpable.

This London had changed, had become denser in essence.

Holland wandered the streets, knowing that he _should_ be heading for the castle, but couldn’t help himself. He instead noticed how the Isle shined with a darker red than usual. He entered the marketplace, where a massive scrying board stood with the daily announcements. Holland observed predictions for the weather and other daily news, expecting the messages to play again once they were over. Much to his surprise, at the end of the last announcement, one more proclamation emerged in massive, bolded letters:

**_Long live the Royals. Long live the Maresh rule._ **

Holland tilted his head, unsure of if the word _Maresh_ was a name or if his Arnesian was getting rusty. Before he could answer himself, the messages started over again.

Holland wouldn’t be surprised if a new ruler had emerged; it would certainly explain Kell’s absence.

When Holland approached the castle, the guards standing outside were tense and motionless. The two standing on the sides of the north gate looked down at Holland and wordlessly let him inside.

Within the gates, there was hardly a sound in the courtyard. It was as if the castle was completely isolated from the bustling city outside. In the sparse trees with twisted and gnarled limbs, Holland couldn’t even see any birds.

He approached the front doors and they opened for Holland. Within the castle itself, guards and servants went to and fro, but something was wrong. Their motions were stiff and their eyes looked shallow and haunted. What most unnerved Holland was the fact that not a word was spoken to him. It wasn’t a lack of respect, but something else. It was as if they were afraid of making a sound. A chill crept down Holland’s spine as he made his way to the heart of the castle: the throne room.

Before he could touch the thick metal doors, an unfamiliar, disembodied voice boomed across the hall.

“The other _Antari_ , I presume?”

Not knowing what to do, Holland muttered a quick, “Yes.”

A pause.

“Come in, then.”

The doors swung open. Holland walked inside, noticing the change in decor. The windows were replaced with stone as dark as the rest of the walls. The ceiling appeared higher than it once was, and there were no curtains or paintings on the walls anymore. Nothing to muffle any sound. The black marble floor was streaked with both gold and red.

What was most odd was how no one else seemed to be in the room. No guards or attendants and strangest of all, no Kell.

Holland stopped in front of the pedestal that the one queen used to occupy. Now, much like his own world, a king and queen sat side by side. Well versed in first-encounters, Holland bowed stiffly.

“I am Holland Vosijk. I bring news from my London to yours.”

The new king replied, “We know who you are, and we’ve been waiting for your arrival.”

Holland straightened up, slightly confused. However, he kept himself as neutral as possible.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting, then. My world has been quite busy lately.”

The king chuckled in a way that hardly felt friendly. “As have we. As you can see, our world’s throne has changed hands. I am King Maxim, and this is Queen Emira.”

The Queen merely raised her chin in acknowledgement.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, Holland.”

She held her hand out and Holland briskly kissed her knuckles. Once she retracted, Holland noticed how attentively she was watching him.

He kept himself composed. “I come with correspondence from my King and Queen Dane.”

Holland handed them the letter and the king ran his thumb cautiously over the wax seal. As he read the message, Holland turned his attention to the waiting Queen and decided to test his luck.

“May I ask where Kell is?”

Her voice was as smooth as butter, “Oh, the other _Antari_. He’s with our son.”

Holland chose to ignore how she referred to Kell solely as what he was, and instead feigned interest.

“Oh, so you have a son?”

The king spoke while still reading the letter. “Yes, yes, our dearest Prince Rhy. I suppose you should meet him while you’re here.”

He continued, “Send for the Prince.”

Holland wasn’t actually sure if the king was speaking to him, but noticed how a slight vibration traveled through the air and marble floor.

By the time the King finished the letter and handed it to the Queen, the doors reopened. Holland turned and his breath caught in his throat. An icy, iron grip seized his entire body.

The Prince of Arnes strode in proudly. He was a handsome young man with skin and hair that were dark and healthy. The golden crown atop his head gleamed brilliantly while a sword hung from his side.

And one of his fingers was a dark red ring. In just the right light and at just the right angle, Holland could see a near-invisible thread of _something_ trailing from the ring. It looked like a line of reddish spider’s silk, but Holland could feel the energy radiating from it. A powerful, dark energy. At the other end of that thread was a heavy iron collar etched deeply in runes.

And that collar sat prominently around Kell’s throat.

All possible words died on Holland’s tongue. The younger _Antari_ looked terrible.

His already pale skin was sickly white, not even like the people from Holland’s world. Both eyes were ringed with dark, restless circles and speaking of _eyes-_ his red hair was cut short so that his black eye was impossible to hide. And while his clothes were clean, Holland could see the tiredness in Kell’s shoulders, in the way he seemed to fight to keep from slouching. Kell’s hands were also clasped tightly together in front of him, as if invisible shackles kept them there. And _those-_

His wrists and hands were nothing but a field of healing wounds.

The clip of the prince's shoes on the marble floor brought Holland back to reality.

Prince Rhy came to a stop in front of him and looked bizarrely excited to see Holland. Kell stood a step behind. His eye flickered briefly toward Holland before pulling away, but in that half-second, Holland saw nothing. No fear, no anger, no joy, no pain. It was a nothingness born from feeling too much and too little at once.

“You must be Holland.”

His attention was now fully on the Prince. Holland bowed out of habit and raised himself slowly.

“It’s an honor to meet you, your highness.” Empty words that Holland has said to many princes and princesses before this one, and probably will after.

Prince Rhy clapped his hands and Holland noticed how the pale red thread of magic flickered in the light.

“So, what brings you to our world?”

“Business.”

The prince raised an eyebrow at him.

“Business, you say? Then do you have any letters for me?”

“My apologies,” Holland spoke without thinking, mind still fixated on Kell. “I’m afraid I don’t-”

The boy snickered and clapped Holland on the shoulder.

“I’m playing with you, _Antari.”_

He looked like he wanted to say more but the queen interrupted them.

“Behave, Rhy.”

The Prince huffed lightly before moving to stand at the King’s hand.

“So _do_ you anything else to deliver?”

Holland was suddenly very aware of how empty his jacket was. He wondered if he could offer the king a coin from his word and say it was a sign of peace, anything to buy just a bit more time, when he remembered.

_And tell Kell that we’d love for him to visit soon._

His eyes drifted toward Kell before returning to meet the King’s.

“Yes, actually. A message from my queen to Kell.”

And just like that, one name set everyone in the room on edge. The prince’s shoulders stiffened and his eyes swiftly narrowed. But for the first time since entering, Kell’s eyes shown with something akin to emotion.

The prince snapped at Holland like a viper, “I’ll be taking whatever message you could have for him.”

Oh, how he’d like to punch this prince in the face. Holland had to remind himself, _composure was key._

He was good at facing the inhabitants of Red London with feigned ease.

“Oh, it’s actually a verbal message. My queen was worried that if she wrote it, the letter might be read by someone else.”

This was apparently the wrong thing to say to the Prince.

“What sort of secrets could your queen be keeping with my _Antari?”_

_my Antari…_

Holland tried his damndest to remain calm. “No secrets, I assure you. My queen was merely insistent on ensuring privacy. I was hoping I could borrow Kell for just a few moments?”

Now it was a form of stand-off. Clearly, none of the royalty in the room liked the idea of two _Antari_ speaking behind closed doors. But then again, while these people grappled with magic, Holland’s world used it easily. Upsetting his queen could prove very troublesome in the future for the Maresh family.

The King broke the silence. “Very well.”

Rhy looked like he was about to argue, but was cut off by his mother’s stern glare. She turned back to Holland and smiled like a shark.

“I assume five minutes is all you need?”

Holland managed a smile. “That would be plenty of time, thank you.”

Prince Rhy muttered something under his breath before pulling the ring from his finger. Immediately, the red thread vanished and Kell visibly inhaled.

“Best be back in time, _Antari._ I want a drink soon.”

Holland assumed that Rhy was speaking to Kell, but he wouldn’t know. He didn’t look back as he and Kell hurried out of the room. As soon as the doors closed behind them, Kell grabbed Holland’s wrist and began to practically sprint off.

They stopped at an intersection in the hallway. Kell looked from side to side, biting his lip, before choosing the left corridor. He ripped open the glass doors to the nearest balcony and shoved Holland through them.

He pulled the doors closed and muttered something under his breath. The curtains on the other side of the balcony drew shut. Holland gripped Kell’s shoulders and spun him around. Kell’s breath was shallow, and his one normal eye darted about as if the wind would carry their words away.

Holland snapped to get his attention and hissed, “What did they do to you?”

Kell reached up to touch the collar around his throat.

“The prince, Rhy… he made me make him a ring from my own blood so I’d be chained to him. As long as he wears the ring, I have to do as he says.”

Kell’s voice was hoarse and dry. Holland snarled, repulsed.

“He _forced_ you? Is his magic that much stronger than yours?”

Kell managed a humorless scoff. “He wishes. He’s actually terrible when it comes to magic.”  
  
“Then why did you let him?”

Kell glared at him. “What do you think? They were going to kill me!”

Kell said it as if it’d be obvious. The he looked wildly around, as if there’d be someone else with them. He scratched at the collar almost absentmindedly, giving Holland a better view of his heavily marred wrists.

“They already killed the previous queen. They killed nearly every competitor for the throne and almost every other powerful family. They-”

Kell devolved into a fit of coughs. Holland saw that the skin beneath the collar looked red and irritated. He carried on through his fit.

“They were going to kill me if I didn’t cooperate, _Antari_ or not. I was a threat to them. These Mareshes, you wouldn’t believe the things they’ve done to ensure their power.”

Kell quieted. His eyes looked beyond wary.

“You wouldn’t believe what _Rhy_ has done in his insane quest for power.”

Holland noticed how Kell rubbed at his wrists and forearms. He recalled what the prince last said.

_I want a drink soon._

Holland shivered in disgust. This would be a serious offense in his world, but this _wasn’t_ his world. This was Kell’s.

 _But it didn’t have to be,_ the little voice in Holland’s head whispered.

“Come with me, then.”

Kell gawked at him, as if he suddenly stopped speaking Arnesian. “To where?”

“White London. You’d be safe there.”

Kell took a step back, staring at Holland as if he still couldn’t comprehend him.

“But… the Danes…”

“I’m sure Astrid and Athos would let you stay until the end of the Mareshs’ reign.”

Kell’s hands clenched dubiously at his sides.

“That could take years...”

“Then you stay with us for years! This-” Holland waved at the collar, “-is forbidden magic! It’s vile!”

He didn’t understand why Kell was arguing with him. The ring’s power might not be able to reach Kell in Holland’s London, and if it did, they could certainly find a way to sever the connection in the land where magic was plentiful and kind.

“You don’t understand, Holland. I-” Kell was cut off with a wet gasp.

In the sunlight, they both saw the red thread reform.

Time was up.

The red line twitched and jerked rhythmically in the absence of any wind. Kell stares at the thread with horror.

“He’s coming.”

Holland looked out over the balcony, wondering how easily they could get to the fixed point if they traveled with magic.

Footsteps caught his ear. Holland turned back and watched as Kell pressed his palms to the balcony doors in stiff, jerky movements. Quickly, Holland grabbed one of Kell’s hands, keeping it hovering just above the surface of the door.

Holland and Kell’s eyes met. The older _Antari_ gripped the knife strapped to his side.

Kell hissed and pushed his hand away from the weapon. He looked livid, but his one blue eye shined with desperate, unshed tears. 

_“Don’t.”_

Holland wanted to trust Kell’s judgement. Feeling like he could do nothing more, in a loud enough voice as casual as he could muster, “And lastly, the queen does hope that you’d visit soon.”

Kell’s eyebrows knitted together for a brief moment, then his one blue eye widened beautifully. Holland let go of him and Kell finally placed both hands on the doors. They opened and Prince Rhy stood in front of them.

“I hope you’ve delivered your message by now.”

Holland didn’t look at Kell, didn’t want to.

“Yes, thank you, your highness.”

The prince nodded and gestured toward Kell. “Come.”

The two set off walking, the prince trusting that Holland would follow. But now the prince knew that Holland’s queen expected Kell.

A chance to escape for another day.

They were lead back to the throne room, were a table with a goblet and a knife sat against one wall. Holland stood before the red king and queen once more.

“I will be taking my leave now, your Majesties.”

“Ah, just a moment.” The King produced an envelope with a black wax seal.

“For your rulers.”

Holland took the letter and tucked it into his pocket.

“Goodbye, your Majesties.”

He fled before Rhy could make Kell drag the blade across his skin. He felt that maybe Kell wanted him gone for that.

* * *

That night, Kell laid in his bed in the room devoid of any of his previous possessions. There were many nights where he couldn’t sleep, but this one was different. For the first time in months, Kell laid awake in bed and felt something akin to hope.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I ended the story with just a teeny tiny bit of Kell’s POV because he's my boy and I don't actually enjoy making him sad. Thank you for reading!


End file.
